Sunday, February 23, 2014

Bagging Forgiveness

Writing is hard. I have learned this the easy way, if that's possible. It's easy to work on a novel only to realize that it takes hard work, diligence and constancy. I am working on a book that will revolutionize the fantacy genre. Ok, maybe not, but it is pretty good.

Today is not my day, though. I read through my manuscript and I want to build up my characters, but I'd rather just sit at home and watch Dr. Who. Dana kicked me out of the house, though, and said that if nothing happens in an hour, I'm allowed to come home. I just have to try.

Grocery shopping is my least favorite thing in the world next to wet socks and genocide. Today we needed a few things, though, and I promised my sweet wife that I would help her navigate the slushy roads. While we were at the store, there was a girl who saw me and asked how I was. Not in a friendly, "Your cart is in my way, please move," kind of way, but in a "Hey! I haven't seen you in ages! How are you?!" kind of way.

Ever Friendly Benjamin took his cue and responded in a socially appropriate way, but she could tell that I had no idea who she was. I wracked my brains for the remaining time we were at the store trying to figure out how she knew me and if we had been friends at one time. Unfortunately I could not recognize her from any of my files in my mind palace.

I resolved to let the girl know the next time I encountered her that I couldn't remember her. I was going to tell her that I had had a terrible accident where I couldn't remember my address half the time, and I had begun to refer to Dana as "Mrs. Amundson" because her name is ever so tricky.

But the chance never came. She completely disappeared. I will never find out who this mysterious woman is who knows me from another life. Dana said she disappeared because she realized I am not who she thought I was and was embarrassed about saying hi to me. I think it's because she realized that I didn't think our friendship was a deep as she thought it was, and is now cursing my existence because I'm such a jerk.

Friend, if you read this, please forgive my lapse of memory. I'll come up with a better excuse next time I see you in Trader Joe's.